Rock on, Mr. Corey

We just returned from an oh-so-fun-but-all-too-short tour across this great land of ours. We traveled first to my homeland of Indiana, where we rocked the city of Kokomo (we got there fast, then we took it slow). From there it was just a fifteen-hour jaunt up the road to Andover, just outside of Boston (Massachusetts' state motto: Yankees Suck). We rounded out the trip with a stop in Cobleskill, NY and one in Easton, PA. Pennsylvania is a beautiful land, but I have a theory it's run by five-year-old children, because it's the state from which we get all our Hershey chocolate and all our Crayola crayons.

But the highlight, for this agent, was a stop in Salem, Massachusetts, home of those selfsame witch trials. While we were there, we visited two haunted houses and one "witch museum."

It was in Salem in 1692 that 150 people were accused of witchcraft and 19 of them were hanged. One man, a Mr. Giles Corey, was actually tortured to death by being "pressed." A wooden board was placed on top of him, and then rocks were piled on top one by one. The stubborn Corey refused to confess to being a witch. He did, however, have the following things to say:

Unh... stop... I left my keys in pocket...

You guys are dicks! You said we were gonna get
stoned!

Do you know what I think? I think you have a crush on
me.

Is this what you'd call a rock Corey? But seriously, guys,
thanks a ton.

Hey, who am I? "Yo, Adrian!"

Is this a pilates class? 'Cause you sure did 'pilates' rocks
on me! Heh... heh... it hurts to laugh.